Upper Hand
by Silenced Cry
Summary: Chloe knows an easy mark when she sees one... [ChloexFlynn; ChloexNate drabbles]
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello all. This content was written a while ago and is set within the Uncharted 2 story arc. It was intended to be a series of one-shots that address the inbetween moments of the events in the game. I had only written 2 one-shots. Not sure if I'll resume where I left off, but hopefully this inspires anyone who cares to read it!

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 **Upper Hand**

* * *

"The Cintamani stone is stirring up a lot of interest these days."

"I bet."

"Speaking of interests…", he has the decency to raise a brow as he pushes a dog-eared file photo across the table, "Know him?"

"Nathan Drake", she smirks slightly, and it makes her next lie a bit anticipated, "Only in passing."

Oh there's something more to that story. It's actually quite endearing how all of the passion in her reaction is smoothed down to subtlety in seconds. But he can still see it; he can guess at what it means. There she is, still stinging from the same months-old pain and Flynn can practically _feel_ it resonating from her like heat from a fire. And maybe that's what it is –heat. Because when Chloe loses, she shows all the markings of a messy exit, with gritted teeth instead of tears, and a ferocious need to prove how unaffected she is. He can appreciate this though because it is such a _masculine_ response, so entirely different from what he has come to expect of other women (rightly or wrongly). More importantly, he can _use_ this. Sure, untamed power is dangerous, but letting her have it is essential.

Maybe it's in poor taste for him to comment on it, but he can't resist. ''We all get burned, love. It's just that you're the one usually doing all the burning."

She looks almost smug, " _You_ would know."

He kisses her palm and her fingers close into the spot, so his lips move to her wrist, determined.

"Are these your spoils or mine?" she asks.

"Let's figure it out together."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: spoilers for those who haven't gotten to the train scene in Uncharted 2 :p

* * *

 **Upper Hand**

* * *

The window of her train car is iced over completely. Her eyes focus on the intricate network of veins in the matted frost, thinking nothing, feeling nothing. After seeing that bullet hit its mark, with Nate turning grey, losing his first fight, she retreated back into her reservoir of strength, detached from it all. The whole plan has gone wrong. The propane tanks exploded and their train car lost an entire wall, giving them a perfect view of all the wreckage –the other cars tumbled away down the mountain into a snowy nothingness, like a toy thrown into a ditch. Nate is in that ditch. She can't imagine him anywhere else, it's impossible.

Rock with the violent movement of the train, listen to the _drip drip_ of melting ice, the murmur of armed men behind her door. They're keeping supervision after her little outburst –some of them saw Flynn shoot; worse still, some of them saw that she didn't. Who knew that Nate would come back for her this time, and that his cunning would fail him? Chloe's a black cat –she took all of his luck, and she doesn't know how to use it. If there's a way out, she can't see it yet.

"Was he really worth the tears, darling?"

Don't look at him –he's bad luck too.

"You went too far, Flynn. I was handling it."

"I did what you couldn't."

That judgment rests heavy on her. She hardly knew that her hesitation could cost this much. And what an ugly thing to say; it burns in her ears all the way down to her gut, suddenly sick with knowing what this is really about, what it's always been about.

"You've got the worst kind of jealousy. It's disgusting", she says.

"Did you forget who we're working for? You keep switching sides and there won't be a happy ending in it for you."

Threats, threats. She knows all this but Flynn loves to be the one to deliver reminders. He sidles beside her, turns that pretty face to his. Is there any loyalty left there?

"You know what your problem is? When you meet your match, you partner with them", he says.

"I haven't met my match."

He was expecting her to grovel or at least lay down her arms, to receive the best and worst of her charms. But he can see now that she's only been nurturing this same sore spot, leaving him wondering about where her attention divides, who her better skills go to. He's got all the cards now and he can play them how he wants. Having her heart isn't worth it anymore; it's her mind, her underhanded cunning that he needs.

So much mental maneuvering in this pocket of time; she's gotta wonder if she's lost the chance to negotiate. She gets the answer she needs soon enough: Flynn's always glorified himself on the smallest bit of power. All of his flaws show themselves on his way to the door before he says a word.

"I guess I'm all you have left, love. And you're going to have to count on me to keep quiet about this."

His hand stalls at the doorknob, "But hell, it's _such_ a good story. I don't know if I can."

The door shuts behind him and Chloe is left with a sudden sense of understanding –be still, and let the pieces fall where they may. And in her stillness, for the first time in a long time, she sends off a quiet prayer to the snowy nothingness and hopes that Nate receives it.


End file.
